


rest yourself with me

by sabinelagrande



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Clothed Sex, Consensual Somnophilia, Crowley Loves Selfies (Good Omens), Cuddlefucking, Cuddling, Enthusiastic Consent, Held Down, Light-Hearted, M/M, Prior Consent, Sleep Sex, Switching, soft, why not both?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-30 15:21:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20099365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabinelagrande/pseuds/sabinelagrande
Summary: Crowley has a wonderful invention that he's just dying to try.





	rest yourself with me

Aziraphale won't even say the word.

"You invented _what_?" he says, bewildered, as they stand in the small, book-laden bedroom in Aziraphale's shop.

"Cuddlefucking," Crowley says proudly.

"What on Earth is that?" Aziraphale asks.

"You get a good cuddle going," Crowley explains, "and then somewhere in the middle either your passion takes over or one person offers and the other one says-" his voice goes up, to imitate what, Aziraphale's not sure- "'Oh I couldn't possibly, but maybe just a little' and then bam, you're fucking."

"Have you ever done it?" Aziraphale asks.

"Well, I mean, not really," Crowley says cagily. "I don't try most of the things I inspire."

"Except selfies," Aziraphale says.

"I'm pleased you remembered the name this time," Crowley says. He pulls out his phone, holding it up and examining himself. "Nah, the light's terrible in here this time of day."

"And you are proposing we do this?" Aziraphale says.

"Naughty," Crowley says with a grin. "I never actually said that."

"I know all your tricks, tempter," Aziraphale says. "You were only bringing it up to put the idea in my head."

"Now that it is in your head, I'd love to get your feedback," Crowley says.

"I think you're making it sound dirtier than it has to be," Aziraphale says. "It seems like it could be very sweet, if you did it right."

"It's highly customizable," Crowley says, nodding. "You could cuddle for ten minutes and then drop the pretense, or you could cuddle up under a quilt on a rainy day and fuck all afternoon long."

"I do like quilts," Aziraphale says thoughtfully.

Crowley takes his hand, pulling him over and kissing him. "All I need to know is whether you want top or bottom."

"If this is such an extended process, why can't we do both?" Aziraphale says.

Crowley grins. "I love where your head's at, angel."

"What does one wear to something like this?" Aziraphale asks.

"In our case, the genitals of your choosing," Crowley says. "Generally speaking, whatever you feel comfortable in. What you sleep or lounge in, kind of a thing, or nothing at all."

"It seems gauche to show up naked," Aziraphale says.

"It does spoil the effect a bit," Crowley agrees.

Aziraphale thinks for a moment, then waves a hand. His clothes end up neatly folded off to one side, and he's left in what he hopes is the appropriate kind of attire.

"A t-shirt?" Crowley says incredulously, though he sounds kind of delighted. "Have you ever worn a t-shirt before?"

"No," Aziraphale says. He takes the hem and pulls it away from him, looking at the shirt upside down; it's a light heather gray and says EDEN in faded block letters. "But the oversized ones look so soft and comfortable."

"Do you like it?" Crowley asks.

"This one is nice," Aziraphale says. "I made sure it was good and worn in."

"Looks good on you," Crowley says. He tugs at Aziraphale's loose boxer shorts. "I'm surprised you didn't put wings on these."

"It's a bit tacky," Aziraphale says, leaving aside the fact that he does own more than one item with wings on.

"Hang on," Crowley says, looking closer. "Those are snakes."

"Snakes are less tacky," Aziraphale says.

Crowley sighs. "I love you, angel."

"Well, aren't you going to join me?" Aziraphale asks. "I feel a bit silly all by myself."

"On it," Crowley says. He snaps his fingers, and he's wearing a black a-shirt and a pair of tight black boxer briefs.

"Those leave nothing to the imagination," Aziraphale says.

"Nobody said you had to stop at imagining it, angel," Crowley says. He turns around. "Shall I give you the full effect?"

Aziraphale laughs out loud when Crowley turns, because naturally, the back of his underwear sports the design of two large white wings. "Really?"

"I'm a demon," Crowley says, pleased with himself. "We weaponized tackiness."

"Into bed with you," Aziraphale says, and Crowley obligingly slips under the covers, including the elaborately-made quilt that was not there before. He pulls Aziraphale down with him, arranging them so they're on their sides, Aziraphale's front to his back. Aziraphale puts an arm around him, as feels right and good. "What do we do now?"

"We just sort of lay here," Crowley says. "We've cuddled before, you know how it works."

"And then what?" Aziraphale asks.

"You need to relax," Crowley says. "Just let it happen." He snuggles closer to Aziraphale, his ass pushing against Aziraphale's recently acquired cock, which is still soft but considering its options. "Tell me a story."

"What kind of story would you like, dear?" Aziraphale asks.

"A sexy one," Crowley says.

"You know full well you were there for all my stories about that," Aziraphale says, blushing; he'd been just about virginal when he and Crowley fell in together.

"Then let's reminisce," Crowley says.

That's not actually what they end up talking about. Aziraphale starts by describing a meal they had at the beginning of a breathtaking weekend, and he rapidly gets sidetracked. Crowley's no help; he loves that Aziraphale loves food, and he only eggs Aziraphale on when he goes on a side tangent about pitas that turns into a ramble about the best things about the Mediteranean.

As they talk, Aziraphale finds himself petting Crowley, his hair, his arm, just aimless touches for the sake of touching. It's nice, and Aziraphale only remembers why they're actually here when Crowley presses back against him; Aziraphale's not even confident he knows what he's doing.

"If I fall asleep, I want you to do it anyway," Crowley says, in a lull in the conversation.

Aziraphale's hand stills. "Are you sure?"

Crowley yawns. "Hell yes. Think of how hot it'll be, angel."

"I'm mostly thinking about how jarring it might be for you," Aziraphale says.

Crowley hums. "Waking up with you inside me? Sounds like exactly how I want to get jarred. Or spooned."

Aziraphale doesn't actually agree to do it, going on another tangent, but Crowley starts responding less, sentences turning into words turning into sounds. Eventually he realizes Crowley is asleep, nestled next to him. His breathing is quiet and rhythmic, his body moving slightly with each inhale and exhale. Aziraphale just lays there with him for a while, watching him sleep, enjoying how peaceful he looks.

It's almost enough to distract him from the way that his hard cock is pressing against Crowley's ass, very much wanting Aziraphale's attention. Aziraphale has some reservations about just taking Crowley like this, but it's hard to hold onto them with the twin pressures of Crowley next to him and Crowley's words in his head. Would it really be so bad to do exactly what Crowley wanted, when Aziraphale wants it so much himself?

Aziraphale carefully eases Crowley's underwear down over his ass, tugging and adjusting until it's around his thighs. His cock isn't hard yet, so Aziraphale wraps a hand around him, stroking him slowly. He looks for signs that Crowley is waking up, but even as his cock fills in Aziraphale's hand, he's still breathing evenly.

Aziraphale lets him go, sliding his hand over the curve of Crowley's ass. He doesn't stop there, easing Crowley's leg forward so he can reach Crowley's hole. He's met with something he definitely didn't expect, his fingers running through slick wetness; Crowley, that little minx, must have miracled himself ready before he fell asleep, leaving it for Aziraphale to find.

This, more than anything, cements Aziraphale's resolve; Crowley's laid it out for him in no uncertain terms. He wants Aziraphale to do this, and Aziraphale's need to please is outweighing his potential for guilt.

Aziraphale eases his boxers down and positions himself at Crowley's entrance, a hand on Crowley's hip to keep him in place. He pushes slowly in, and Crowley parts for him easily, smoothly, until Aziraphale bottoms out inside of him. Crowley makes a soft noise in his sleep, his hips working for a moment, and Aziraphale hopes this is making his dreams pleasant ones.

Aziraphale fucks him slowly, rocking into him gently. He has no intention of not trying to wake Crowley up, but something is soft about it, pleasing, the way Crowley is lax and quiet and so trusting, willing to give himself to Aziraphale without even being asked. Aziraphale kisses his shoulder, the back of his neck, his hand coming around to stroke Crowley's cock, which is now hard and dripping in Aziraphale's hand.

"Aziraphale," Crowley sighs.

"It's me, dear," Aziraphale says softly.

"Always want to wake up like this," Crowley says, his hips working, pushing back against Aziraphale's.

"I'll see what I can do," Aziraphale says, and Crowley laughs.

It's so easy like this, their bodies sliding together like they're made to do it. Aziraphale keeps moving, whispering little encouragements against Crowley's skin, and Crowley just gives in, lets Aziraphale do exactly what they both want. The need for orgasm seems muted somehow, and when it finally starts to creep up on Aziraphale, he holds it at bay, wanting to see Crowley fall apart first.

Slowly but surely, Crowley starts to lose control, his hips moving faster, and Aziraphale takes him through it, fucking into him until Crowley gasps, coming onto his shirt and Aziraphale's hand. Only then does Aziraphale speed up, taking what he needs for a moment before he comes himself, deep inside of Crowley, Crowley murmuring encouragements to him.

Aziraphale just stays like that until he can't anymore, only pulling away when he has to. Crowley, bless him, takes care of the mess, leaving them both clean. The clothing seems like a pretense at this point, but both of them put themselves back to rights anyway.

"My turn to be the big spoon," Crowley says, rolling Aziraphale over and molding himself to Aziraphale's back.

"You just want to get back there so you can take advantage of me," Aziraphale says.

"Ooh, what a good idea," Crowley says. "But you'll have to give me a moment, angel. I'm afraid you wore me out."

"I don't think you're spent just yet," Aziraphale says. "Even if you are, I thought the whole point of this was resting."

"I suppose it is restful," Crowley says, putting his chin over Aziraphale's shoulder. "I do feel good and relaxed, which I thank you for."

"I do hope that was what you wanted," Aziraphale says, fretting again.

"I threw myself at you as hard as I could," Crowley says. "I'm grateful you caught me."

"I did enjoy it," Aziraphale says. "You can be quite sweet when you're unconscious."

Crowley laughs. "Don't get used to it."

His hand steals up under Aziraphale's t-shirt; he doesn't do much with it at first, just running up his belly to settle in the middle of his chest. It feels nice, like he's doing something secretive, appealingly sneaky.

"Patience has never been one of your virtues," Aziraphale says, though he makes no attempt to remove Crowley's hand.

"Haven't got any virtues," Crowley says, and Aziraphale rolls his eyes rather than start an argument. "You wouldn't like me if I was patient. We'd never get anything done." Crowley is not necessarily wrong about that, so Aziraphale doesn't respond. "Shall I tell you a story?"

"Why do I get the feeling it's a dirty story?" Aziraphale says.

"Because all my best stories are dirty," Crowley says. "This one involves a sweet little angel getting ravished."

"By a demon?" Aziraphale says. Being with Crowley has not stopped Aziraphale's unfortunate tendency to get turned on when Crowley is outrageously blatant about sex; if anything, it has gotten worse.

"Some have said it was a demon," Crowley says sagely. "He definitely had a devilish air to him."

"What precisely did this demon do?" Aziraphale asks.

"He waited until this angel was all alone," Crowley says, kissing the back of Aziraphale's neck. "He got him right where he wanted him, where he was defenseless." Aziraphale sucks in a breath when Crowley grabs his cock, which is already getting hard again. "Then he had his wicked way with him."

"Did the angel fight back?" Aziraphale says, and it doesn't come out as levelly as he hopes.

"See, here's the odd thing about it," Crowley says. "The angel only ever said yes. One might say he even invited it."

"What a curious angel," Aziraphale says.

"A strange one to be sure," Crowley says, reaching under Aziraphale's waistband to touch him properly. "I can only think of one angel who wanted to get seduced by a demon."

"Crowley," Aziraphale sighs.

"No, it was Aziraphale," Crowley says, with a grin in his voice. "Crowley only wanted to get seduced by an angel."

"You're thoroughly ridiculous, do you know that?" Aziraphale says, groaning as Crowley thumbs his nipple.

"You've told me enough times," Crowley says. He rucks up Aziraphale's shirt, and Aziraphale pulls it over his head, letting it drop somewhere, forgotten. The boxers come off too, kicked down under the bedsheets as Crowley deals with his own clothing.

Crowley urges him onto his stomach, covering Aziraphale with his body; his hands slide up Aziraphale's arms, reaching his wrists and pinning them to the bed. Aziraphale realized very early on that he particularly likes it when Crowley holds him down; he outweighs Crowley, but Crowley is wiry, stronger than Aziraphale. Aziraphale is rounded off, while his demon is all angles, and he loves to feel the strength in it.

"My lovely, soft angel," Crowley says, kissing Aziraphale's shoulders; on his tongue, being soft sounds like a marvelous, enviable thing, and Aziraphale tries not to let on how much he loves it. "You have no idea what you do to me."

"I can feel it right now," Aziraphale says, pressing up against him.

"That's just one thing," Crowley says, grinding his cock against Aziraphale's ass. "But since you're so interested, why don't I start there?"

"Sounds splendid," Aziraphale says, as Crowley eases his legs farther apart. One of his hands slides down Aziraphale's back, smooth on his skin; it travels down to his ass and further, ending between Aziraphale's legs.

"Allow me," Crowley says, running his thumb over Aziraphale's hole, and suddenly the way is slick for him. He presses his thumb inside, and Aziraphale gasps; it is nowhere near even beginning to be enough.

"Oh, Crowley, please," Aziraphale says, perhaps in a whine. "Don't tease me."

"I haven't even begun to tease you," Crowley says, though he takes at least a little bit of pity on him, pushing two fingers into him instead, still not enough but an improvement. Crowley takes his sweet time about it, fingers working in and out as he bites at Aziraphale's shoulder, not hard enough to mark but hard enough to feel lovely, a thing Aziraphale is still wrapping his head around. He keeps it up for what seems like years, until Aziraphale is writhing against the bed, just about ready to beg.

Aziraphale moans when Crowley finally begins to press into him, filling him up just the way Aziraphale has been aching to be filled. He slides in slowly, and Aziraphale pushes up against him, wanting more, deeper, anything.

"Why don't you let me do all the work?" Crowley says, in a voice that makes Aziraphale's spine go liquid. "I'll take care of you, angel."

"I know you will, darling," Aziraphale says, and he sighs when Crowley starts to rock into him. It all just feels so easy, like it's supposed to be happening, like it's self-evident. He lets himself relax into the bed, letting Crowley take him as he wants, control it entirely. He knows he's in good hands.

"I told you you'd like it," Crowley says, nipping his earlobe. "It's just like you, all decadent and indulgent."

"You have a dim opinion of me," Aziraphale says.

"On the contrary," Crowley says, and Aziraphale gasps as Crowley grinds against him, as deep as he can get. "I love how much you love pleasure, angel. You _enjoy_ things so much."

"I'm certainly enjoying this," Aziraphale says. He's also enjoying Crowley's voice, low and confidential, saying things he never would outside of bed.

"I'm going to keep giving it to you," Crowley says. "I'll give you whatever you want as long as I can see how you light up when you get it."

"Crowley," Aziraphale breathes. Crowley lays a line of kisses across Aziraphale's shoulders, one side to the other, his hips still moving, fucking him in long slides that are irresistibly good.

They stay like that for an age, until Aziraphale forgets everything else, everything in the world except for Crowley inside him, Crowley's warm weight on top of him. He presses his face into the cool sheets and moans, unable to keep the sound in. It's too good not to make noise, make it known how much he loves this. Crowley's not silent either, and it only compounds things for Aziraphale, knowing that Crowley wants this just as badly.

Crowley begins to work faster, and Aziraphale sighs. It feels perfect, just the right time, just the push that Aziraphale needs. It feels like they're in exact sync, Crowley reading him like a book, and Aziraphale wants him to do it, wants Crowley to devour him line by line.

"Oh, love," Aziraphale says, and Crowley gasps. "Faster, love. I want to feel you come for me."

"You'll be the death of me, angel," Crowley says. "Couldn't pick a better way to go."

Crowley is thrusting into him quickly now, his hands on Aziraphale's shoulders, and Aziraphale's eyes flutter shut. He can't focus on anything but how Crowley feels inside him, ratcheting up his tension. It's almost unbearable but so sweet too, how desperate he is for Crowley, how desperate Crowley is for him.

"I'm almost there," Crowley says, reaching under Aziraphale to stroke his cock, his movements rapid and sure.

"Come with me," Aziraphale says. "Please-" He breaks off with a gasp as it hits him, his whole body shaking with it. Crowley cries out, and Aziraphale feels him coming too, joining him, the two of them so close that they're indistinguishable. It feels exquisite, perfected, and Aziraphale sighs as Crowley bends down over him, keeping him pinned, fully present, as it tapers off, as they begin to come back to themselves.

Crowley doesn't pull out until he absolutely has to, and he doesn't go anywhere when he does; he wraps his arms around Aziraphale and rolls to the side, so they're a bit more comfortable but don't have to be parted for an instant.

"This may be your best creation," Aziraphale says. He doesn't sleep, but he feels closer to it than he has in centuries, so relaxed, wrung out.

"For enjoyment it rivals the selfie, though the appeal is narrower," Crowley says. His phone is, naturally, sitting by the bed, and he unlocks it and holds it up, putting his chin over Aziraphale's shoulder. "Smile, angel."

"We just made love," Aziraphale says, scandalized.

"It's just your face, no one will know," Crowley says. "I won't even put it on Instagram if it turns out to be too revealing."

Aziraphale can see the two of them on the screen. There's something about them that looks so good, soft and calm, and for some reason it seems like recording it is the perfect thing. "Oh, alright," he says, adjusting so that both of them are ideally positioned. 

Crowley snaps the picture, pulling the phone back to look at it. "I'll have to keep this one to myself," he says. "You look too hot. The jealousy would see no end."

"Also your eyes are showing," Aziraphale deflects, blushing.

"That too," Crowley says. He puts his phone back on the nightstand. "But it really is a good picture. You look delicious."

"You should text it to me," Aziraphale says, as Crowley settles against him.

"Do you even have any photos on your phone?" Crowley says, sounding amazed.

"No," Aziraphale admits freely. "It seems like a perfect place to start."

"You are a marvel, angel," Crowley says, pulling Aziraphale closer to him.

In the end, the picture does not go on Instagram. It does go on Aziraphale's phone, where it is the lock screen. And the home screen. And Crowley's contact picture. Aziraphale does only have the one, after all.


End file.
